


I Waited.

by SongsofSamael



Category: Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Dark, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Other, Wendigo, it isn't what you think it is, keepin these vague, no happy ending, sorry friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2015-11-02
Packaged: 2018-04-29 13:10:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5128823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SongsofSamael/pseuds/SongsofSamael
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A first-person narrative of the one being that never abandoned Josh Washington.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Waited.

I was there when Joshua Washington started having problems.

We grew up together, after all. I used to follow in his footsteps all the time. He might've been shorter and more solid than me, but he was different. He had a natural charisma about him that promised something greater than anything I'd ever known. He fed a curious hunger in me that kept me going; trailing after him. Always on his heels and laughing in his ear. I remember chasing him down the roads at dusk and struggling to keep up. The kid was a hell of a runner. 

Josh always knew the best places to hide, too.

When his parents fought, I was there, too. He hid in the closet and refused to come out until his father stormed off and drove away. Then he'd slip out to check on his mom and the twins. Hannah always cried, but Beth was silently resigned.

I was there when puberty caught up to him and, like most kids his age, shoved him into the bathroom for long intervals. 

Where that changed from the norm was the fact that he started taking his father's razor and finding his skin with it, trying to saw answers out of his arms. I was there when he fumbled to hide things. I told him the best place to put them. I took care of him and helped him come up with excuses for his injuries. What else could I do?

I was there when, in the back of his friend's car at fourteen, he tried to beat in his brains like he did for the past week solid, hands striking head, over and over. This was the first time he'd done it out of the privacy of his own bedroom, however. It got him weird mutters and a walk home, and suddenly, the next day, Josh wasn't as popular as he used to be.

I was there for the school changes and the doctors, Josh's arguments with his mother ["who are you talking to?" "it doesn't matter, just let me talk--!"], the broken film equipment, I was there through it all. I was there when he showed up for high school with a smile on his face. He seemed to have it all together, now. He was in charge of himself, and growing up handsome. He had the world on a plate and from madness sprang creativity; or vice versa. He still had his bad days, but I was there for him. We all were, waiting for the next big thing.

I was there when we took the first fateful trip to the mountains with Beth and Hannah. I was there when tragedy struck, even if I didn't have any real part in it. 

I was there for the collapse of Joshua Washington; his agonizing grief nearly defeating him completely, this time. I tried to play doctor and friend to him alike; tried to be there for him as much as I ever had been. There was only so much I was capable of at the time, however.

I was there when he thought of it; finally. The Next Big Thing. I didn't know the depth and breadth of it at the time, but I should've guessed.

I was there for the second trip up to the mountains.

And I survived it. So did he.

You see, I'd been with Josh for a while now. In his childhood; his adolescence, and now. I was the one pushing him along. It'd all been leading up to this.

And when he got too tired to carry on, I gave him one final nudge:

I was there for Josh because he was there for me. Literally for me.

My beloved.

My broken.

My vessel.

I climbed inside the home I'd made and I blossomed; hatched, and schemed my way through him until we were one. We ate flesh; we tore limbs, and I understood him.

That's why they call it a sickness; the people who named us.

Wendigo sickness. 

A madness of the mind.

**Author's Note:**

> [In case you haven't guessed, the narrator is the wendigo spirit. It followed Josh all his life and waited to claim his soul.  
> ...Cheery.  
> It's meant to be brief, more like an urban legend than anything else.]


End file.
